


Blink

by bluejoseph



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: ??? - Freeform, Blood, Bruises, Cats, Fighting, Ghosts, I don't even know what to tag this as, I'm very sorry, M/M, Possession, The sun - Freeform, Weirdness, just some weird shit, like i don't know what i was thinking at all, really weird shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 19:21:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17289902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluejoseph/pseuds/bluejoseph
Summary: The sun blinked at him--a large, orange-yellow eye with a solid black pupil in the center--and Tyler blinked back.





	Blink

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really know what was going through my head when I wrote this but here you go

The early morning air was cold and still. Tyler stood just by the sliding glass door, curtain pushed all the way to the end of the curtain rod. The world outside was an odd shade of gray and blue as the sun's light barely appeared on the horizon.

As the great ball of fire began to rise, slowly, more of the apartment became visible. The outlines of furniture were less fuzzy; there was a white cat sleeping on the couch. Tyler said nothing, did not move, only standing still as a statue. 

Eventually, the sun itself peeked over the edge of the Earth, as if testing the waters. The first true light of the morning was a thick gold, such a deep blend of orange and yellow that it was impossible to put it into one category or the other. 

The sunlight hit Tyler's face, and he closed his eyes, letting it seep through his eyelids. It illuminated the sharp bruises on his face—a black eye, a scrape on the bridge of his nose, a splash of purple along the curve of his jaw. He raised his hands up for a moment to catch the slivers of gold with his hands, light casting his torn knuckles and raw fingernails in a soft glow. He knew it wouldn't heal him, but for a moment, he almost felt as if it could. He wasn't sure if he wanted it to or not.

As the light changed from sharp to slight intensity, Tyler opened his eyes at last. The sun blinked at him—a large, orange-yellow eye with a solid black pupil in the center—and Tyler blinked back. 

There was a knock at the door, abruptly. The cat sat up on the couch, spines standing up with alarm, and ran into the other room as Tyler opened the door. 

Josh had a broken nose. There were scratches and scrapes along his bare arms as if someone had torn at him with their fingernails. There was a bloody scrape on his forehead, and his lip was torn, although it was difficult to tell if someone had done that to him, or if he had done it to himself.

Briefly, Tyler recalled their fight. Everything had been fine when they'd gone to bed. He'd been woken from a deep sleep at nearly two in the morning when a fist had connected with his face. He'd fought back blindly, so muddled by sleep and exhaustion that he'd barely known what he was doing. When he finally struck Josh hard enough, his boyfriend would scramble off of him, bleeding, and flee from their apartment.

This had been happening frequently lately. They'd go to sleep, everything would be fine, and then Josh would wake him up at exactly 1:52 am by throwing a punch at him. Josh's eyes were always glazed over, then, and he fought with an intensity that Tyler never saw in him any other time.

Obviously, something was going on with him that Tyler didn't know about—a possession, a ghost that needed to be exorcised—but he couldn't ask Josh what was going on without sounding rude.

He was a little pissed off about getting beat up at unholy hours of the night, but he knew it wasn't Josh's fault. So, every time, when Josh came back in the morning, Tyler let him in. Of course, he did. He loved him; he couldn't just throw him out, even if he wanted to sometimes.

They sat on the couch together, not speaking. The sunlight was thinner now, more yellowed out. It splashed across their faces, showing off the injuries they'd caused. Tyler stayed where he was, letting the sun grace his wounds. Josh leaned back to avoid getting blinded.

After a few minutes, the cat came back in the room and hopped up on Josh's lap. Josh put on the glove they always had on the coffee table and petted along her back. The cat's purrs were so loud the couch shook.

“I'm sorry about your eye,” Josh said finally. 

Tyler reached up a hand to touch the very edge of the bruise, wincing slightly. Most of the time, Josh didn't hurt him too bad, but this black eye was kind of painful. He probably needed to put an ice pack on it. 

“I'm sorry about your nose,” he replied in turn. As Josh hit him harder and harder each night, Tyler had to hit back harder and harder to get him to stop. He felt almost as if punching his boyfriend was jolting whatever monster was living inside of him, making it waver in its cruelty and letting Josh take over to flee before he could hurt Tyler again.

The cat had leaped off of Josh's lap now and was watching them from the floor, blinking its third eye solemnly. When Josh leaned in to kiss Tyler, he didn't protest, just held the front of Josh's shirt tightly, as if something so small could keep him anchored to this moment.

Josh's lips tasted like blood.

The sun blinked.


End file.
